


Nightmares

by DictionaryWrites



Category: All New X-Factor, Marvel, Marvel 616
Genre: Family, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-08
Updated: 2014-12-08
Packaged: 2018-02-28 14:44:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2736413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pietro has nightmares. It sort of sucks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nightmares

Pietro comes awake with a jolt and a harsh gasp, clutching at his own throat in an instinctive and automatic fashion, even though the hands around it had faded away as soon as he’d woken up. He glances at the clock and sits up straight, rubbing at his face; he’s slept only an hour, but he’s not feeling particularly ready to go back to sleep with a dream like that.

Pulling himself out of bed, he runs his fingers through his hair, rubbing at his eyes and grasping at the hoodie thrown over the footboard of his bed. He’s only wearing pyjama bottoms, and it’s not exactly  _warm_.

      _“You let her die, Uncle Pete.” Tommy says, and somehow there’s a_  
 _sinister edge to it even though he’s usually short and so easy to take_  
 _unseriously. “You let our Mom die.”_

_”You basically killed her, Pietro.” Billy agrees, and the boyfriend is stood_   
_beside him, hand on his shoulder. Pietro is stuck against a wall, and_   
_there’s blood soaked on his hands from clutching at Wanda’s body._

_“Even the boys agree, Pietro. You never could protect her, could you?_   
_You only ever made things worse. Of course, you never went so far as to_   
_abandon her before.” Magneto is walking forwards, and Pietro feels sick,_   
_is pressed back against the wall and can’t get away._

_”I didn’t abandon her; Father, Lorna needed me more, I didn’t-”_

_”You killed her, child.”_

_”No-”_

_”You murdered me.” Wanda says, and she speaks softly, looking at_   
_Pietro as if he’s worth anything, as if he hadn’t killed her, as if her_   
_death had been anything less than his fault.The others are agreeing,  
      and Lorna is too, Luna and Crystal and Vision and-_

_Pietro is staring in the mirror, and his father’s helmet is on his head.  
        It matches the blood on his hands._

_And then the mirror Pietro pulls off the helmet, throws it aside,_   
_shows his cropped-short silver hair, glares at him. He hates himself._   
_Mirror Pietro hates real Pietro, and he should. But then he leans_   
_forwards even though Pietro is still, leans forwards and passes through_   
_the glass and his hands are tight on Pietro’s throat and it **hurts-**_

He grabs at his phone, dials the number with a slightly shaking thumb. Please, please pic up, please-

"Hello?" Oh, thank whatever deities exist.

"Wanda? Wanda, hey. Are you okay?"

"I’m fine, Pietro! It’s a bit early, though." Ah, yes. It is six in the morning. She speaks quietly, softly, as if Pietro’s made of glass. She does that, much of the time - even these days. "Nightmares?" She still knows him too well.

"Yeah." He murmurs quietly, and he feels guilty for having disturbed her, really. "Sorry. I’ll leave you be."

"It’s alright, Pietro. I love you."

“I love you too, sis.” He drops the phone aside, and then he flops back onto the bed trying not to think about his own reflection strangling him as punishment for causing the death of his own sister. Which he’s not done. Wanda can take care of herself, and he’s just being with Lorna for a little while.

Which is- really great. He  _loves_  Lorna, and would (perhaps irritably) admit some liking for the rest of the team as well. Wanda’s not going to die. That’s ridiculous, as is the idea that she’s going to die just because he’s on a different superhero team now.

He moves towards the door, steps out.

"Hey. Y’okay, cher?" Why is Remy here so early in the morning?

"I’m fine." Pietro mutters. He sort of wants to ask LeBeau to cook him breakfast.

"I’m to make a li’l scrambled eggs. How bout’chu, cher? Y’want Remy to cook for ya?" Pietro could kiss the man. He’s not going to do that, obviously.

“Pietro wants Remy to stop talking bout himself in the third person.”

“That’s a yes, huh?”

"Please."

"Aw, look at’chu. You know the word "please" and everything."

"I know lots of words. In several languages." Remy laughs, elbows him in the side as though they’re friends, and they are  _not_. Are they? No. Of course they’re not friends. They’re just— team-mates.

"Come wit’ Remy, brother. Eggs ain’t gonna demselves." Pietro follows the other down the corridor, dips into the kitchen with him. He doesn’t look at the mirror on the wall as he goes, but he never does, in truth.

Remy starts talking, and Pietro listens, which he doesn’t usually do. It distracts him, pulls his mind away from nightmares. Remy is laughing, leaning against the counter with a spatula in his hand like he  _belongs_  there.

Almost like being friends.


End file.
